Fallen
by GW Katrina
Summary: What if Stokely had been wrong? Contains Slash
1. So close, yet so far

Title: Fallen  
Author: GW Katrina  
Rating: PG-15 for language  
Beta: Rebecca  
Warning: AU.  
Feedback: Of course, silly duckies.  
Archive: Anyone who wants it. Just tell me so I can go see.  
Disclaimer: *sighs* If I owned them, Zeke and Casey would have been  
shagging in celebration.  
Notes: Just to warn you, this was inspired by the DISC: bad things  
thread, starting at mess #164, and the line of Zeke's. As you  
read the story, it will become clear which one. This is the first  
part, of the first story, of a possible series. I hope you like.  
  
Fallen  
  
Stokely was wrong.  
  
She was still warm as Zeke pressed his fingers against her neck. A  
strange half-whine broke from his throat, in a rare display of  
distress. With a shaking hand, he closed her black-lined eyes, then  
wiped away the blood that was smeared on the side of her face.  
  
"Stokes, you were right," he whispered. "I guess the queen's dead.  
You were right."  
  
Standing, Zeke wavered, world spinning wildly. He braced himself  
against the mesh wall for a second, then staggered out of the  
equipment room. Setting off, he stumbled over debris as he followed  
Marybeth's path of destruction.  
  
"Fuck," he grumbled out loud. "I'm thinking in clichés. 'Path of  
destruction.' Sounds like something Casey would say."  
  
Just the thought of Casey made Zeke move faster. With Stokely....  
With the dried parasite next to her head, Zeke just knew that the  
queen was dead as well. And the only one who was still with it  
enough to have killed her was Casey.  
  
Zeke really hoped it wasn't one of those final strike deals.  
  
Finally making it to the gym, Zeke could see dark forms in the  
corner. It was hard to tell, because of the shadows, but one looked  
human. A fallen human.  
  
"No." Zeke hurried for the slumped form. Please, don't let Casey be  
dead. Don't be dead, Casey. Don't be dead, don'tbedead. The mantra  
ran through Zeke's mind as he moved as fast as he could make his  
battered body go.  
  
As he drew near, Zeke saw the silvery shape of Marybeth's alien  
body, dry and ready to vanish with just a touch. Before her was  
Casey, blood streaming down his face from four cuts, making him look  
even paler than normal.  
  
On the floor, around Casey, were four husks, so much like the one  
that had killed Stokely. Unable to move, just for a second, Zeke  
reached forward once more. Casey was warm, but Stokely had been  
warm, too.  
  
Brown eyes closed, and an almost sob racked Zeke's body. Then he  
opened his eyes again, and smiled as a pulse pounded rapidly against  
his fingers.  
  
"Case, come on, Casey. Time to wake up."  
  
Gently patting Casey's face, Zeke was relieved when large blue eyes  
opened. The pair stared at each other for a few moments, then Casey  
reached out with shaking hands and touched the blood still sliding  
down Zeke's face.  
  
"You okay?"  
  
Zeke snorted, immediately regretting it. "Ow. Yah, I will be. Can  
you stand? We need to get the fuck out of here."  
  
"What happened? I killed.... Oooh."  
  
Casey's voice trailed off, and Zeke's hands darted out as Casey  
began to slump forward. "Casey! What's wrong?"  
  
"I don't know," mumbled the younger boy. "She did something when she  
died. I could feel those... things touch me. In the head, like they  
were trying to take over. Then...." Casey lifted his face, and  
looked at Zeke. "I don't know. All of this *stuff* just poured into  
my head. It hurts like hell."  
  
"Stuff?" Okay, Zeke could honestly admit that he wasn't his best if  
that was the most coherent question he could come up with. Still, it  
got the message across.  
  
"My face. That much was clear. Connections. Lots of them. All spread  
out. Shit!" Casey slammed his fists against the floor. "There's  
more, damnit! Why doesn't it make any sense!?"  
  
Grabbing Casey's shaking hands in his own, Zeke attempted to stand  
and pull the smaller boy up with him. It turned out more like the  
pair of them falling upwards, bouncing off each other, but the end  
result was the same. Both were standing on their feet.  
  
"We'll work on it later, Case. We need to get the fuck out of here.  
Now."  
  
"But.... Why?" Casey was confused. The queen was dead. Shouldn't  
everything be better?  
  
Grimacing, Zeke realized how bad Casey was going to take  
this. "Stokely.... Stokes was only half right, Casey."  
  
"Half right?"  
  
"The queen is dead, and so are her little parasite pets." Zeke tried  
to pull Casey forward, but the teen had built a wiry strength after  
so many years of abuse, just to survive. Mix that with someone as  
stubborn as a mule, and one got Casey, who was not going to move  
unless Zeke picked him up, and Zeke was not up to that.  
  
"Zeke. What. Happened." Each word was bit off, and Zeke understood.  
There was no way in hell Casey was going anywhere until he got the  
truth.  
  
Looking at Casey through grey dots, which seemed to be multiplying,  
Zeke took a deep breath.  
  
"When you took out the queen, the bastards took their hosts with  
them."  
  
There, he'd said it.  
  
Silence. The movement of skin over those strange blue eyes was  
audible. Zeke could actually hear the 'blink blink' noise they made.  
  
Then Casey was gone, running past Zeke in a surprisingly graceful  
move. Zeke turned, meaning to follow, but found himself on his hands  
and knees, trying not to throw up.  
  
After what seemed like forever, strong hands pulled at his  
shoulders, and he found himself standing, lost in grey fog. A soft  
voice spoke.  
  
"Come on, Zeke. We're leaving."  
  
Dazed, Zeke let himself be led, docile, too sick to care. His arm  
was over a convenient shoulder, which was just the right height.  
There was a soft click, and he was helped down onto a padded seat.  
  
Zeke's vision cleared, and he saw Casey shutting a car door beside  
him. What was Casey doing in the driver's seat? Did the kid even  
know how to drive?  
  
"Shut up, Zeke. I'm not a kid."  
  
Fuck. Since when could Casey read minds?  
  
"You're talking out loud, dumbass. No mind reading involved."  
  
Oh. That was good. Then Casey didn't know how pretty Zeke thought he  
was.  
  
Once again, there was the 'blink blink' noise, and Casey looked at  
Zeke. "Zeke, you think I'm pretty."  
  
Zeke nodded. Was Casey sure he couldn't read minds?  
  
"Zeke, I think you have a concussion. And I think you're pretty,   
too. Mind blowing beautiful, actually."  
  
Casey thought he was pretty? That he was 'mind blowing beautiful.'  
That was good. Ooh, he felt dizzy.  
  
"Zeke, don't you fucking pass out on me, do you hear...."  
  
Casey's voice seemed to mute, and darkness swirled in, turning  
everything black.  
  
  



	2. The truth hurts

Tilting his head back, Casey let the warm water wash over his face.  
It felt good, and he felt the tightness that meant dry blood loosen  
and vanish.  
  
Once the blood was gone, the cuts began to sting, hit by needles of  
hot water. Casey let them, taking a bitter pleasure at the small  
pains. He wasn't someone who got off on pain, but it felt like a  
small remembrance, some payment to those he had killed.  
  
He knew that it had been the aliens who had killed his mother, the  
man who he called father, his neighbors. The people at school, jocks  
and outcasts alike, had also fallen to the deadly creatures in their  
bodies.  
  
But he had struck the fatal blow, filling the queen with the scat  
that was so deadly to her.  
  
But he had been wrong. They weren't ground zero.  
  
He had been watching the TV after he had dragged Zeke into the house,   
and tended to the cuts on the older man's head. The news stations  
were all about the same thing.  
  
Hundreds of people, maybe thousands, had dropped dead. Small, unknown  
creatures had been found by each person, and all had sustained some  
type of brain injury. Nobody knew what the cause of death was, and  
autopsies were being performed even as the newscasters spoke.  
  
Shaking himself out of his depressing thoughts, Casey reached for the  
soap. He paused, eyes focused on his trembling fingers. Frowning,   
Casey pulled them back, bringing them up to eye level to study them.  
  
They shook, he could see that, but he wasn't afraid, or high on scat.  
He wasn't in shock; at least, he didn't think so. They just  
trembled, something that was barely noticeable. Quickly, Casey moved  
each of his fingers. The pinkies barely twitched, and there was an  
eerie numbness that ran along the outside edges of his hands.  
  
Once, during his freshman year, Casey had been knocked out during one  
of the 'beat the geek' games. He had woke up two days later, barely  
remembering what had happened. Since he didn't know, for certain, who  
had done it to him, nobody had been punished.  
  
What he did remember was the doctor telling him he was lucky not to  
have brain damage. Casey had sat awake, all night, mind going over  
what might have beens. As soon as he had been let out of the  
hospital, Casey had looked up all the information he could on the  
subject.  
  
Trembling hands, numbness, and an inability to move fingers.  
  
Fuck.  
  
Staring at his hands, Casey realized he had nerve damage. It wasn't  
bad, just his hands. It could have been much worse. It could have  
been his sight, his ability to walk. His ability to breath. Maybe  
that was what had killed everyone. Maybe the parasites severed nerves  
when they died. That would explain everything.  
  
Suddenly, Casey realized his was crying. Tears mixed with the water  
that streamed down his face.  
  
Sobbing quietly, Casey sank down, kneeling on hard tile. Everything  
seemed to hit him at once, and Casey cried for all the lost hopes,   
dreams, and desires that had been destroyed. He wept for all those  
who would never be able to again.  
  
Nobody deserved to die like that. Unable to do what they wanted,   
trapped in their own bodies. Nobody, not ever Gabe and his friends.  
  
The crying steak lasted long enough for the water to turn cold. It  
wrung out all the tears Casey had left, leaving only the water to  
coat his face as he gasped for air. His chest hurt. Too many years of  
suppressing his hurt for anything to come easily anymore.  
  
Grabbing the soap with his shaking hands, Casey quickly set about  
washing himself, wiping away sweat and blood. As he did, a thought  
occurred to him.  
  
What about his father's gift?  
  
Still unsure about what was involved with the ability his father's  
blood gave him; Casey shut off the water, and stepped out of the  
shower. Pausing for a moment, letting the water run off of him, onto  
the floor, Casey took a few deep breaths. He would need room for this.  
  
Closing his eyes, Casey gave up a silent plea, and concentrated.  
  
***  
  
His head hurt.  
  
The throbbing ache reminded him slightly of the one and only time he  
had had a hangover.  
  
With a moan, Zeke burrowed closer to the warm body next to him.  
  
Wait a minute. Warm body?  
  
Brown eyes shot open, then closed just as quickly. Pale morning light  
was streaming in his windows, trying to claw his eyes out.  
  
Trying again, much more carefully this time, Zeke opened his eyes.  
  
Blinking, he saw that he was wrapped around Casey. The smaller boy  
was sleeping quietly, dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks bruised  
around the red cuts. Vaguely, Zeke wondered if they were infected.  
  
Zeke tried to untangle himself, not wanting to wake Casey up. His  
head was hurting worse and worse. Why did he not want to wake Casey  
up, again?  
  
At the first sign of movement, Casey sighed, and woke up. Zeke froze,   
caught in the largest, bluest eyes he had ever seen.  
  
Drawn by the sleepy acceptance of their position, Zeke tilted his  
head, and his lips brushed Casey's. For a moment, nothing happened,   
then Casey returned the soft kiss.  
  
With a sigh, Zeke relaxed again. Darkness was creeping over him, once  
more.  
  
Something soft brushed his lips, and Zeke saw it was a white feather,   
which seemed to glow in his darkening vision. Casey held it, brushing  
if softly across Zeke's face.  
  
"Sleep, Zeke. We have plenty of time today."  
  
Zeke slept.


	3. Revelations

He felt better. A lot better. The hot shower, including crying,   
followed by a long nap curled around Zeke, had done wonders. Now, a  
bowl of cereal in hand, Casey watched the news absently.  
  
Some high and mighty scientist had gotten on, and was telling about  
how it appeared someone had sliced the nervous systems of the fallen  
people. Thus severing the connections between brain and body.  
  
Glad, in a sick and twisted way, to be proven right, Casey turned  
his mind to his main concern.  
  
Should he tell Zeke or not?  
  
Casey wasn't sure what he would be considered. His mother was human,   
but his father.... Well, his father looked human.  
  
Right now, though, Zeke might not be of the most rational mind about  
anything that didn't come from Earth.  
  
On one hand, Zeke really needed to know. If Casey didn't tell him,   
and the truth came out, Zeke would leave him alone. Totally. And  
Casey might not be able to follow.  
  
Casey didn't think he would be able to handle that.  
  
On the other hand, if he told Zeke, Zeke might still leave. He  
really, really hated aliens at this moment, so he might even attack.  
Casey knew there were still a few pens of scat lying around. He  
didn't want one through his eye. If Zeke did run, that would keep  
him from following.  
  
Fuck.  
  
A noise from upstairs warned Casey that Zeke was up and about. About  
time, too.  
  
With a jaw-popping yarn, Zeke stumbled down the stairs, scratching  
his stomach. Casey watched him walk across the room into the  
kitchen, smiling.  
  
One thing he definitely liked about Zeke was the easy grace the other  
teen had. Even when walking around, shirtless and barefoot, Zeke  
looked like he could handle anything.  
  
A few minutes later, Zeke padded into the room and sat on the couch,   
also holding a bowl of cereal. He looked at Casey solemnly.  
  
"Did I tell you that you were pretty?"  
  
Casey nodded, his chest tightening.  
  
"Did we sleep, and just sleep, together?"  
  
Another slow nod Did Zeke think it was a mistake?  
  
"Did we kiss?"  
  
A hard swallow and Casey nodded again.  
  
Zeke just looked at him, then a slow smile crossed his face.  
  
"Good. Just wanted to make sure it wasn't a dream, and that I didn't  
miss anything important."  
  
He leaned forward, and Casey felt soft lips on his again. With a  
sigh, he returned the kiss. If this was what every miserable year of  
his life had been leading to, he thought, it was worth every second.  
  
Zeke broke the kiss, smiled at Casey, then brushed his lips again.  
The romantic scene was broken by the growling of Zeke's stomach.  
  
Both boys laughed, and Zeke went to work on his food.  
  
To Casey, the whole thing was slightly surreal. Here he was, kissing  
Zeke, the older *man* he had never really talked to before, while  
everything he had known was in ruins. Everyone he had ever known,   
aside from Zeke, was dead.  
  
Before he could brood on it, Zeke nudged him. "What's going on?" he  
asked, nodding towards the TV.  
  
"Don't know," answered Casey honestly, turning his attention back to  
the flickering box.  
  
"If you have been watching, you know about the mysterious rash of  
sudden deaths that happened last night. Whole towns fell dead,   
nervous systems destroyed by some type of parasite.  
  
Now we face another danger. Over the course of the last two days,   
over two hundred people have been hospitalized for flu-like  
symptoms. This morning, our sources say, over half of them are dead,   
and more are being hospitalized, even as we speak. We go to our on  
the spot reporter, Mary Amsterdam. Mary."  
  
The view changed from a middle-age white man in a news room, to a  
young black woman in front of a building. The words at the bottom  
said she was at Jewish Hospital, in Louisville, KY. In the upper  
left hand corner was the word 'Live.'  
  
"I'm here, outside of Jewish Hospital, in Louisville, Kentucky, where  
the first victims of this mysterious disease were brought, and the  
first ones, to all knowledge, lost the fight to survive."  
  
Stifling a cough, Mary continued. "Doctors have given us very little  
information, saying that the symptoms are similar to the flu. When  
asked if this new illness was related to the unexplained deaths that  
happened Friday night, many refused to answer. One compared it to the  
influenza epidemic of the early twentieth century. When pressed...."  
  
Casey saw it a split second before it happened. Mary's voice trailed  
off, her lips paled and pressed together, and her eyes got very  
large.  
  
All of that happened in a second, and she collapsed to the ground.  
There was a second of confusion, then the view jumped back to the  
station.  
  
Looking slightly hard pressed himself, the newscaster swallowed  
hard, eyes darting around. "We'll update you on Mary's condition as  
the information becomes available."  
  
There was a small noise off camera, and the anchor pressed his  
earpiece tighter. Whatever was said was not good. He paled, and  
sweat dotted his upper lip.  
  
"This just in. It has been confirmed. The epidemic is officially a  
pandemic. Deaths have been reported in England, France, and Germany.  
Many countries, including Japan, China, Australia, and several  
countries in Africa, report rapid spreading of the disease."  
  
Suddenly, the newscaster jumped to his feet, eyes wild. "We're all  
going to die. I'm leaving."  
  
The live feed was replaced with a test pattern.  
  
Casey and Zeke stared at the TV. "What's going on?" whispered Zeke.  
  
Standing up, Casey shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Come on."  
  
"Doesn't matter? Doesn't fucking mater?!" Zeke also rose to his  
feet, wobbling slightly before towering over Casey. "People are  
dying, Casey. A lot of people. Marybeth must have brought some kind  
of alien virus here, and its killing people."  
  
Taking a deep breath, Zeke continued his rant. "Think about it,   
Casey. She was carrying what ever it was. We're infected. We might  
still die."  
  
"I know." Casey looked at Zeke with the calmest expression that  
Zeke had ever seen on his face. "If I'm going to die, I'm going to  
do it outside of Herrington, Ohio. I'm not going to do it surrounded  
by the dead."  
  
Casey began to pace, making Zeke slightly dizzy just watching him.  
The older boy realized he wasn't totally better, even if this was a  
vast improvement over this morning.  
  
"Okay, Case. Com'ere." Pulling Casey with him, Zeke sat on the couch  
again. Holding the trembling boy in his arms, Zeke  
relaxed. "Breakdown's over. Look, it's still dark out. One more  
night here, then we can start our. Explore the world."  
  
Sighing, Casey collapsed into the embrace, head resting at the  
melding of Zeke's neck and shoulder, enjoying the contact. How many  
years had it been since Casey had been touched in anyway except  
anger and contempt? Too many for him to count.  
  
"So," said Zeke, lightly. "What do you want to do?"  
  
Warm lips pressed down against his skin. Tilting his head back, Zeke  
stiffened when the softness was replaced with the pain of sharp  
teeth nipping hard against the same spot. Before Zeke could react,   
Casey lazily licked the teeth marks and tiny drops of blood.  
  
"I have an idea or two," purred the pale man, his eyes glittering in  
the light. Zeke touched the injury, started at the tiny smear of  
red. Dark eyes caught blue, and the pair smiled at each other.  
  
"Let's go back upstairs."  
  
***  
  
The doors slid open, and Casey almost expected to hear someone  
say "Welcome to Wal-Mart." Of course, there was nobody there. It was  
the first time Casey had ever seen the store empty. He stopped, eyes  
wide.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"It's so quiet."  
  
Zeke's hand settled on his shoulder, giving him a quick squeeze. "I  
guess we should get used to it. At least we still have each other."  
The hand moved away, taking only a second to trace one of the bite  
marks that decorated Casey's neck.  
  
With a laugh, Casey moved into the store. "I can't decide if that  
was romantic or corny, Zeke."  
  
That earned him a soft punch on the arm, which he ignored. Out of  
habit, he grabbed a cart, then froze.  
  
"Do you.... Do you think we'll find any bodies?"  
  
Behind him, Zeke paused. "Fuck," he muttered, eyes sweeping the  
store. "No cashiers. Maybe they were closed?"  
  
Casey smacked the side of his head. "Marybeth had them all at the  
game, I bet.  
  
Let's just get our stuff and get going. Grab what you'll think we'll  
need."  
  
Zeke looked at his lover, noticing the fine trembling of his  
fingers. "You gonna be okay?"  
  
That earned him a wane grin. "No, but there is nothing either of us  
can do about it. Let's get this done and over with."  
  
Reluctantly, Zeke and Casey split up. Zeke went for Sporting Goods,   
while Casey hit the grocery aisles.  
  
It took about half an hour, but they had a wide variety of things to  
go through. Having added to duffle bags to his cart, Casey began to  
sort.  
  
There was no question about the ammo. It went into Zeke's duffle  
without a word. Casey had seen the LA riots on TV, and this would be  
even worse.  
  
Cans of food were tossed into the cart. Those would go into the car,   
along with the bottles of water, and most of the rest of their  
supplies.  
  
A change of clothing in each bag, and Casey put several bags of  
jerky and chips in, also.  
  
"Quick snack and they won't spoil," he told Zeke.  
  
The camping area had been hit hard. Most of the things were  
portable, useful, and exactly the right size fro two guys. Most of  
that had also gone in the care. A few things, emergency blanket,   
flashlights, matches, and a large bladed knife, all went into the  
bags.  
  
Finally, after several trips, Zeke and Casey were done 'shopping.'  
Everything that had been deemed useful had be picked through and  
tossed into the backseat of the car, which was overflowing.  
  
Dusting his hands off, Zeke looked for Casey. The only other  
survivor of the invasion of Herrington stood on the other side of  
the car, gnawing on a fingernail. A sure sign of nervousness. Zeke  
had seen him do it once when Gabe had played cat and mouse with  
Casey one day.  
  
"Case? What's wrong?"  
  
Blue eyes darted everywhere, looking at anything besides Zeke's face.  
  
"Casey?"  
  
"I have to tell you something, Zeke. I don't want you to freak, but  
I have to tell you."  
  
Zeke laughed, the sound having a bitter edge to it. "Casey, we  
battled an alien queen, have watched most of the people we went to  
school with die, and now the world is being hit by some kind of  
killer virus. Now, unless you tell me you're an alien who's going to  
take over Earth, I don't think I'll freak."  
  
Instead of getting the laugh, or even glare, he had hoped for,   
Zeke's little rant got him a bone-white Casey. What color the boy  
did have drained away, leaving him paler than ever. The only color  
he had was those blue eyes, grey lips, and purpling marks on his  
neck.  
  
Easing his gun from the small of his back, Zeke stared at Casey. "I  
was joking. Unless.... Unless you really are one of them?"  
  
Casey shook his head violently. "NO! Not like that. Nothing like  
that. My mom is, was, human. And my dad.... Well, he was mostly  
human, I think. Actually...."  
  
The sound of a gun being cocked shut Casey up. He froze, staring  
down the barrel of a loaded gun. In the back of his mind, Casey knew  
that most guns didn't need to be cocked to fire. It was a noise. A  
noise that both relieved and worried him.  
  
If Zeke was really that terrified, he would have used the weapon,   
not given Casey time to react. But there was still a loaded gun  
pointed at Casey's head.  
  
"Get the fuck away from the car."  
  
Casey obeyed the commands, lifting his hands up as he backed away.  
  
"Don't come near me. Ever again. Just.... FUCK! Just stay away."  
  
Once Casey was far enough away, Zeke slid into the car. His head  
hurt, so did his chest. The one person who he had left was a fucking  
alien. Damnit all to Hell.  
  
With a squeal of tires, Zeke peeled out, speeding off down the road.  
Casey sighed, moving forward to grab his bag. At least he could  
follow, not unconscious or injured. Always of the good.  
  
Grumbling about know-it-all repeating seniors, and their poor  
judgment, Casey picked up his bag and settled it across his  
shoulders.  
  
Then he started walking down the road, heading after Zeke.  
  
THE END  
  
Endnotes: Well, this was fun. My mind has already started churning  
out the next part of this series, and it is pondering if it wants to  
make a missing scene for this part. Of course, that's just because  
it's a pervy brain, and wants a sex scene.  
  
I hope you guys enjoyed this. Haven't gotten much feedback, but the  
few pieces I did get was nice. And I've decide to keep babbling  
until everyone else talks just to drown me out. Have fun.  
  
GW Katrina


End file.
